Words: The Scottish Psalter
To the chief Musician, A Song or Psalm.
1 All lands to God in joyful sounds, aloft your voices raise. 2 Sing forth the honor of his name, and glorious make his praise.
3 Say unto God, How terrible in all thy works art thou! Through thy great pow'r thy foes to thee shall be constrained to bow.
4 All on the earth shall worship thee, they shall thy praise proclaim In songs: they shall sing cheerfully unto thy holy name.
5 Come, and the works that God hath wrought with admiration see: In's working to the sons of men most terrible is he.
6 Into dry land the sea he turned, and they a passage had; Ev'n marching through the flood on foot, there we in him were glad.
7 He ruleth ever by his pow'r; his eyes the nations see: O let not the rebellious ones lift up themselves on high.
8 Ye people, bless our God; aloud the voice speak of his praise: 9 Our soul in life who safe preserves, our foot from sliding stays.
10 For thou didst prove and try us, Lord, as men do silver try; 11 Brought'st us into the net, and mad'st bands on our loins to lie.
12 Thou hast caused men ride o'er our heads; and though that we did pass Through fire and water, yet thou brought'st us to a wealthy place.
13 I'll bring burnt off 'rings to thy house; to thee my vows I'll pay, 14 Which my lips uttered, my mouth spake, when trouble on me lay.
15 Burnt-sacrifices of fat rams with incense I will bring; Of bullocks and of goats I will present an offering.
16 All that fear God, come, hear, I'll tell what he did for my soul. 17 I with my mouth unto him cried, my tongue did him extol.
18 If in my heart I sin regard, the Lord me will not hear: 19 But surely God me heard, and to my prayer's voice gave ear.
20 O let the Lord, our gracious God, for ever blessed be, Who turned not my pray'r from him, nor yet his grace from me.